Unsuspecting Sunday Afternoon
by DharmaGirl07
Summary: Ben runs into a familiar face in Starbucks, which launches off a series of seemingly unrelated events. More to come. Feedback is always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Ben's eyes flitted over his New York Times' crossword. 29 down: Ganges. He blew some steam off his coffee and took a long sip. Straight up, non-fat milk, two packets of synthetic zero calorie sugar. No frills. Ben look so inconspicuous: middle-aged, average height with average features except for those blue eyes. But people hardly ever looked that close. On a Sunday morning, he looked like a regular Joe sitting in a Starbucks, reading a paper and drinking something manly. _Whatever that meant,_ Ben thought caustically. He liked what he liked, and rarely felt the need for extravagance. Just your average guy. 45 across: Schubert. Like everything else about him, it was a lie. His normalcy was a charade.

Right then, the door opened, sending in a blast of springy, slightly salty L.A. wind. The paper rustled, and he looked up. Almost instantly, Ben looked back down. Kate and Aaron had just come into the café. Of all the Starbucks in all the L.A. area, she had to walk into his. With her stolen child, reminding him painfully of his stolen child. But his was gone. He had no time to savor his half-witty reference to "Casablanca" or spend a few seconds revisiting the still festering wound left by Alex's death. Ben focused hard on his paper, eyes glued to nothing, while he planned. By this time, Kate had pushed her baby up to the counter and ordered a Grande, non-fat iced latte. No frills. _You don't know how similar we are, Kate,_ Ben thought. Standing up, he folded his paper under his arm and headed over to the garbage can by the counter. Head down, toss the cup and its pithy euphemism of happiness. Head back up, lock eyes.

"Hello, Kate."

She gripped the stroller like her life depended on it, her knuckles white and her eyes wide with barely contained terror.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice accusatory. Ben smiled faintly, and raised an eyebrow.

"Want, Kate? I'm not sure I understand you."

She clenched her teeth.

"You always want something," she spat at him. He shook his head.

"We're not on the Island anymore. I don't want anything. My! Look how Aaron has grown!" Ben sank down on his haunches so he could be on the same level as the baby. Once a father, always a father. He fell right into the old patterns from the time when Alex was still his baby girl. His smile was always biggest and most open for children, because of their innocence. It was safe to smile like that at children. He reached out a hand so the boy could grab his fingers, but Kate whipped the stroller away with a vehemence that made Aaron cry.

"Don't you touch my child," she hissed. Ben put his hands up.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just couldn't help myself." He looked ashamedly at the floor. "You're not the only one who lost someone, Kate. I lost my baby." He paused, waiting for his words to sink in, subtly watching her. "Again, I apologize."

Ben turned to go, leaving Kate red-faced and flustered.

The next day, a beautiful bouquet of flowers appeared at Kate's house. The attached notes said, "From one parent to another, in the hopes of better days ahead," in formal, no frills writing. She ripped the card into small pieces and flung them into the trash. But the flowers stayed for a week because she clipped them and changed the water each day until they rotted.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben lived in a spacious three-bedroom apartment that he kept clean only out of habit and personal preference. In fact, aside from the study, the rest of the apartment was almost uncomfortably clean. A single drying bowl from breakfast and a small vase of tulips were the only indications that anyone inhabited the space. His study, on the other hand, was more cluttered than forgetful professor's office. His usual habits of cleanliness and organization were completely abandoned. Papers were strewn everywhere, and high-tech equipment littered the desk. One whole wall was bookcases, on every topic from Arabic history to the latest economic treatise to abstract books by crackpot time-travel theorists. Ben spent most of his time in the study, engrossed in his research, with the blinds drawn tightly against the sun and a cup of coffee at hand. He still had things to do.

It was Thursday night, and he was running low on essentials: eggs, milk, coffee, fruit. He had never heard of land-based cases of scurvy, but he supposed it was possible. Heaving a sigh, he grabbed his keys off the stainless-steel hook on the wall. When he first returned, it had taken him a while to get used to driving again, especially in Los Angeles. He still hated driving on the freeway. On those occasions, his temper got too short for his liking. Soon, Ben reached the store. While he was perusing the produce, a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Come on, baby, let's go pick out some fruit."

He turned just in time to see Kate and Aaron turn the corner. Again, her eyes widened and the stroller jolted to a halt.

"Hello, Kate. Don't worry; I'm leaving."

He turned to leave.

"Thank you."

Ben swiveled to face her.

"For the flowers, I mean," she stammered.

He paused.

"You're welcome."

He turned again to go.

"Are things really different?" Kate called after him.

Ben again retraced his steps.

"Yes, Kate. Things really are different. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

She still looked like a colt about to shy.

"Do you still have to be afraid?"

Ben's face visibly softened, and a trace of a smile flitted across his face.

"No, Kate. I don't have to be afraid anymore. Have a nice evening. Oh, and be sure to get some peaches. They're just ripe."

Another month passed, where Ben continued with his research and did not see Kate and Aaron. One day, he emerged from his study, rubbing his eyes. No matter how many hours he spent in front of it, his opinion of the computer had yet to improve. He stumbled into the kitchen, propping himself up against the marble island. He glanced over to the coffee pot to see if it would still be warm, or if he would need to brew a new pot. Ben hated to reheat coffee. It lost all its bounce in the process. The clock said it was three-thirty-five in the morning. He groaned, and pushed off the counter. At that moment, the phone rang, stark in the dark morning. Ben no longer looked tired; in the place of the sluggish eyes were bright, intense ones staring at the phone in its cradle. His breath caught in his chest. But Ben was never one for more than split-second hesitancy. He grabbed the phone, pausing slightly before beginning.

"Hello? ---- Must you always call at this time? I'm sure the time is more convenient for you, but ---- no, I'm not bluffing. Why would I bluff? ----- So now you're going to pretend like you know who I am? You know nothing about me, except that I'm still looking for it. ----- What you want me to do hardly matters. I know who you're working for, and it will take much more to persuade me. ----- You think you can have some kind of hold on me? My daughter is already dead. What else is there left for you animals to destroy? -------- Yes. I'm sure you will. Good bye."

Ben replaced the phone on the base. His jaw worked as he contemplated the conversation.

"Imbecile," he shot aloud at the now silent telephone. With that, he turned sharply on his heel and headed back to his study. There was still so much to be done.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate glanced over her shoulder at the little boy in the stroller. She stretched her arms up and out, spreading a tablecloth, like wings, into the sky. In a smooth movement, she brought it back down, laying it neatly on the grass of the park. She looked back at Aaron. The mannerism was second nature, now. In the time that Kate had been off the island and gotten accustomed to being a mother, she also developed a strange fear of losing him. Unsure of where the feeling originated, it caused her to do all manner of strange things – looking over her should constantly, checking to see if her baby was still safe at all times of the day, distrusting people who came up to coo at Aaron. Kate wanted to feel safe again. Right after the crash, everything had seemed to work out between her and Jack, her ever present guardian angel. But that angelic façade had been falling away recently. She was noticing things. Little things. Like how he shut down when people tried to question him about the big things. Jack was the best at ignoring the elephants in the room. And, though it hadn't happened yet, Kate knew he had a temper. She had seen him beat people up much more than they deserved, simply because it made him feel better about something he had done wrong. She loved and hated that he was fiercely loyal; she loved and hated that he always felt the need to fix things; and she loved and hated that he wanted her all to himself.

Turning back to Aaron, she put on a big smile, and pulled him out of the stroller.

"Isn't this exciting? We're at the park! Someday, I'll teach you how to play catch. But now, let's just have fun on the blanket." Aaron squealed and began looking around him inquisitively when she put him down. Some days, Kate felt as if Aaron was the only male she had ever completely loved and trusted in her life. A cold grip enclosed her stomach every time she thought of him all grown up, living his life out there. He might break hearts; he might break her's.

Kate lay down on the blanket next to him, and absentmindedly monitored his movements, wiping up his spit and pulling him back if he started to crawl slowly off the edge of the blanket. Maybe it was because of the big, open blue sky, or maybe because she had been thinking about the small changes in Jack, but all of a sudden Kate couldn't hold it in any longer. All the bad things, how she'd killed her stepfather, how her mother gave her up to the cops, how she'd lost Sawyer, how she worried that Jack was turning on her, and most of all, how quickly she could lose Aaron, came spilling over the top of her soul and made her cry. She hated crying in public like this – it was so vulnerable – but she couldn't help it. Right then, a pair of shoes stopped on their way down the path, next to her blanket, and asked kindly,

"Are you alright?"

Kate looked up as the man squatted down next to her.

"Ben?"

He smiled that soft smile, like there was faint regret and sadness hiding barely under the surface.

"Hello, Kate." He cocked his head, his forehead creasing in concern. "What's wrong?"

She stared back up at him. Her lip trembled as she debated. One half of her lost. She sat up, cradling a slightly protesting Aaron to her chest. She sniffed and ran a hand just under her bottom eyelashes, trying vainly, like most crying women, to keep her mascara from smearing.

"It's just – have you ever felt like nothing you do goes right? Like all the choices you've made are one mistake after another?"

Ben sighed, squinting up into the sky. He waved a hand at the ground, and Kate nodded a weak acquiescence. He sat.

"I have felt like that before, Kate. More times than you will probably ever know."

He sighed again, looking concernedly at the woman struggling to stifle her sobs in front of him.

"But the thing you need to remember," he put his hand under her chin, and turned her face up toward his, "is that everyone feels like that sometimes, but the world isn't going to end. Tomorrow is another day, a brand new start, and you have control over your life. The beautiful thing about being human is our free will. We can choose to start afresh and live life over. We can choose."

She stopped crying.

"The question is, Kate, what will you choose to do with that life?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ben sat on his couch, flipping absentmindedly through one of his favorite novels, earmarked and worn. The doorbell rang. Putting aside the book, he sprang up to answer the door. He turned the knob, and smiled when the door opened to reveal Kate and Aaron.

"Hey Ben," Kate said. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Kate." Ben stood aside and motioned for her and Aaron to step inside.

'Thanks again for watching him for me. I'm sorry it's such short notice." She set Aaron on the ground, and began pulling things out of her diaper bag. He ran over to Ben, knees high and smile big, who picked him up and swung him around once in the air.

"Oh, it's no problem. I wasn't doing anything particularly important today – just cleaning and other housekeeping duties," Ben replied.

"Cleaning?" Kate raised an eyebrow. "You must clean every day to keep it looking this nice."

"Your house is just as clean, Kate," Ben informed her.

"Yes, but I have a maid."

Ben smiled and shook his head.

"Okay, I don't have that."

"So what are you boys going to do today?"

Aaron wiggled in Ben's arms; as soon as he set him on the floor, he began running in between his mother and his babysitter, alternately slapping them on the legs like they were goalposts in his childish game.

"Well, I thought we would make some cookies or perhaps do some coloring. Don't worry; I'll give him back to you clean," Ben laughed as Kate winced at the idea of him returning her son covered in flour or paint. "What are you up to this afternoon?"

"Oh, just some business I really need to take care of."

Ben nodded and didn't pry. That was one of the things Kate had learned to like about him in the year they had slowly become friends – he never pressed her for details. He was so different from the man she had known on the Island. Sometimes, when she met him accidentally at the park or he stopped by to bring her and Aaron the delicious pumpkin bread she always told Jack was from one of her girlfriends, she had trouble remembering what he was like before.


	5. Chapter 5

"And the Little Blue Engine smiled and seemed to say as she puffed steadily down the mountain, 'I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could.' The end." Ben smiled down at the small boy fast asleep on his bed. The afternoon activity of cookie baking had worn the little tyke out, and it was nap time, now. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Ben glanced anxiously at Aaron, but he was still deeply asleep. He vaguely remembered Kate saying once that since Aaron was born on the Island, he could sleep through anything. Carefully getting up, Ben rushed to the door. Kate, out of breath and scattered-looking, burst into the apartment.

"Hello, Kate," Ben said, his brows contracting in confusion. "What brings you back here so early? I was under the impression you were going to be gone much longer."

"Hey, Ben. Is Aaron here?"

"Sure, he's back in my bedroom, taking a nap." Ben was even more confused than before. Why wouldn't Aaron be here? "But let's give him a few more minutes before waking him up, huh? He just fell asleep. Poor kid's all wiped out."

"What? Oh, yeah, I guess." Kate wrung her hands together. Her eyes darted nervously around the room as she searched for something to do. Ben noticed a faint line of blood streaking down her temple. He nodded.

"Kate, for god's sake, sit down a minute."

She stared at him for a moment, as though he spoke not English, but a language unknown to her, and then sat on the edge of the couch, as if not really sitting but perching. Ben chewed his lip, paced for a minute, and then sat down in the chair across from her.

"Alright, Kate. Spill."

Kate tried to smile.

"Spill what?"

Ben sighed.

"The reason why you're bleeding."

A looked of panic shot across her face as she reached up to her temples, only to be replaced with a look of anger as her fingers came back bloody.

"Dammit," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Ben stared broodingly at Kate. He hated to butt into her personal life like this -- he was getting too attached. He cared too much whether someone hurt her or not, and he didn't like that, even while he couldn't help himself. He sighed again.

"What happened?" he asked resignedly.

Kate stuck out her lower jaw and stared determinedly at the ceiling. Ben couldn't help but smile just a little. He recognized that look – it was her "I-really-don't-want-to-say-anything-but-against-my-better-judgement-I'm-about-to" look.

"So there's been this guy hanging around lately," she began. "I've seen him a couple of places where Aaron and I go pretty regularly: the park, on our street, my friend's neighborhood. . . . I thought he might be snooping around, so I thought I'd try and scare him away from us." Kate snorted lightly. "Great idea, right?" Ben arched an eyebrow on his grim face. "I thought you'd say that."

"Well, now the guy probably knows something's up since you acted defensively. If you had nothing to hide, then you wouldn't have done anything in response to his actions," Ben reasoned. Kate's faced contorted briefly. She looked ready to cry.

"I screwed up, didn't I, Ben?" she whispered. He looked at her for a moment, with a look of unfathomable sadness, and, for one startling moment, Kate saw, laid bare, the years of hard work and sacrifice that had prematurely aged Benjamin Linus and made him into the man with the ancient sorrow wrapped in his eyes. Then, it was gone. He stood and came over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder, and smiling comfortingly at her.

"Don't worry too much about it, Kate. You have other things to do." Ben moved around the kitchen, gathering Aaron's things. "And besides, a mother stirred to action is quite an intimidating figure. Chances are this snoop is frightened and already on his way out of here." He began putting cookies in Tupperware containers. "I'm sure it will all turn out alright. Now, I'll go get Aaron."

Ben moved off down the hall, and Kate sank tiredly into one of the kitchen stools. Every fiber of her body ached, and all she wanted to do was go to sleep like her little napping son. She didn't know how long she sat there, but it seemed like seconds later Ben reentered, with a droopy-lidded Aaron in his arms. Kate gladly accepted the sleepy boy, whose weight felt so comfortable in her arms. Ben helped her put the diaper bag over her shoulder as she walked to the door.

"Thanks again, Ben, for helping me out on such short notice."

"Anytime, Kate. Besides, the two of us had a grand old time making cookies and reading and running around." He smiled at Aaron, and brushed the hair off the little boy's forehead tenderly. Kate smiled back, and turned to go.

"Oh, and Kate? Don't worry about that guy. I really do think this will all turn out alright in the end."

She gave him a tired smile.

"I hope you're right. Bye, Ben."

For ten minutes after Kate and Aaron left, Ben sat sullenly at the kitchen table, rolling a nectarine around in his hands but never moving to eat it. Every now and again, he would suddenly half stand, then, as if he thought better of it, plop back down with vehemence. Finally, he made a disgusted, scolding sound and rose from the table. Ben marched to his office, and picked up the phone, punching in a rapid sequence of numbers. He tapped his fingers on the desk in annoyance while the line connected.

"Hello? Sayid? It's me. I apologize for interrupting your vacation but I have something I need you to do. ------- I know you're far away but ------- yes, I know, Sayid, but it's about Kate. We need to take care of something in order to keep her and Aaron safe."


	6. Chapter 6

A scruffy man paced in a small park in an exclusive Los Angeles neighborhood. Every few seconds, he would glance nervously down the street, stare at something, then shake his head and resume his pacing. He had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his much-worn jeans, and from his wrist dangled a digital camera. Occasionally, when he stared at the placid little neighborhood, he would mumble something indistinguishable.

At least, it was indistinguishable to the two men squatting in the bushes at the edge of the playground, watching the pacing man. They both stared at him, their cold, unfaltering eyes illuminated in the sickly yellow light from the nearby streetlamp. They had been watching him for some time – perhaps a week and a half – and had followed him to the playground. One man seemed to be brooding, while the other kept his narrowed eyes locked onto the pacer's every move. At that moment, the first man made and held eye contact with the second just long enough. The second nodded. Together, they sprang up from the bushes.

"It's a lovely evening; don't you think so?" asked the first man, addressing the pacer. The target leaped in surprise, and made a strangled, gurgling sound.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded, his head jerking back and forth in a desperate attempt to keep track of the two men, whose guns were pointed to kill. He noticed they both had silencers.

"Who we are is not important," the second man returned. His voice sounded smooth, but there was something the pacing man did not trust in it. "What is important, however, is why you, David Rhodes, decided to begin stalking Kate Austen and her son, Aaron."

"I didn't mean any harm, I swear," he stammered.

"Then why were you doing it?" asked the first man.

The target began to visibly tremble, but stubbornly said nothing. The first man cocked his gun, with a mechanical sound of death.

"I asked you why you were doing it."

Sweat broke on the pacer's upper lip.

"Okay, okay," he gasped. "I thought there was something fishy about how everything added up – the math and all – you know. And I thought that if there _was_ something fishy going on, then I'd have a hell of a story."

The second man raised his gun.

"You're wrong about one thing. You're not going to have a hell of a story after all."

Blood and brain matter splattered the playground equipment.

--------------------------------

"I thought you said no one would be able to trace it to us."

"Plenty of people will if we don't take some time now and clean up our mess, Sayid."

"We've never cleaned up before, Ben. What makes you think we have to this time?"

Ben stopped wiping down the swing set long enough to look at his accomplice.

"For one thing, we didn't kill some nobody in some god-forsaken alley in Iraq. We killed a reporter in Los Angeles, and in a well-to-do neighborhood, might I add. People are going to start asking questions with this one, and we'd better be sure it's all taken care of."

"I concede the point, but what are we going to do with the body?"

"I have people who specialize in this and other areas of expertise."

"Of course you do," Sayid murmured, with a slightly sarcastic roll of the eyes. "And they'll help you out?"

"They've never failed me yet."

Ben sighed and looked around, shining a strange little flashlight all over the playground. A few speckles of liquid shone bright blue on a plastic staircase in the concentrated beam of light. Ben carefully wiped it away, then double-checked his work – all clean. He looked up at his partner, and held his arms out in a gesture of bland accomplishment.

"I guess we're finished here. Thank you for your help, Sayid."

"Don't mention it," the other man spit at him. Ben shook his head, and headed off to his car. The engine caught as Sayid walked off into the darkness. Now all he had to do was drop off the body of _Los Angeles Times_ reporter David Rhodes to his friend Jill's business, and he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Ben waited hesitantly, then cleared his throat and rang the doorbell. He heard some shuffling inside, and then Kate opened the door.

"Hey, good to see you, Ben," she said, pulling him into a warm hug. He smiled.

"And these are for you," he said as he held out a beautiful bouquet of roses. "I know roses are your favorite."

"Thank you!" Kate gave Ben a peck on the cheek. "It's so sweet of you, considering that you're _my_ savior, not the other way around." She headed back toward the kitchen, her heels clicking along the wood flooring. "Make yourself at home."

"It smells delicious, Kate. May I ask what you're cooking?"

"Nope. It's going to be a surprise." She peeked her head around the corner and gave him a mischievous grin. "For the man who helped me and my son out."

Ben smiled sheepishly.

"It was my pleasure." She ducked back in the kitchen, clanging briskly around. "By the way, where is the little guy? I haven't seen him recently."

"Yeah, he keeps asking about you. It seems he's always busy when our schedules coincide. I actually sent him to my friend's house for the evening. He loves playing with her little girl, Clementine."

Ben raised an eyebrow. So, they were alone. This was different. All of a sudden, he felt the need to be busy, so he got up and began examining the books on Kate's shelves. Not a whole lot of interest there, but there were a few gems. He picked up a first edition of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ and began flipping through it.

"Dinner's ready," Kate called. Ben put the book carefully back on the shelf and walked hesitantly into the dining room. "Please, sit."

Ben couldn't help but notice that she had put out a particularly fine vintage of wine. She saw him eying it, though she failed to notice the vague suspicion in his eyes or his awkward body language.

"Can I pour you a glass?"

"Sure."

She disappeared once again into the kitchen, and brought out two steaming plates.

"I made you favorite," Kate said, laying down one of the plates in front of Ben. "Chicken cordon bleu, with roasted asparagus and a fresh green salad."

"Thank you, Kate! This looks delicious," Ben exclaimed, picking up his fork and popping an asparagus spear in his mouth. It had been so long since he'd made asparagus, he'd almost forgotten how much he loved it. He smiled with pleasure.

---------------------------------------------------

Two hours and a bottle and half of wine later, the food was long gone, as was the awkwardness. Kate and Ben were laughing and sitting on the couch.

"And then Hurley said, he looked like someone had steamrolled Harry Potter," Kate finished, giggling. Ben burst out laughing.

"A steamrolled Harry Potter," he chuckled. "I'm sure James just loved that!"

"Yeah," Kate agreed, her laughter petering away. "Yeah, he did. I miss him, Ben. I do."

He looked at her concernedly.

"I'm sure you do, Kate. And I'm sure this is not the end of our old friend James." He smiled at her reassuringly. "Besides, you have Jack."

Kate visibly stiffened and looked away.

"Well, not anymore, Ben."

Ben blinked.

"What?" She looked steadily at the floor. "Do you mean that the two of you broke up? Weren't you engaged to him?"

Kate winced as though the words were projectiles, hurting her.

"Yeah, well, he felt he couldn't trust me, and I needed him to, and there was a difference of opinions."

Ben sat there, flabbergasted.

"Why wouldn't he trust you, Kate?"

"No reason," she blurted, her words slightly slurring together. "So I may have been doing Sawyer a favor I couldn't tell Jack about. It wasn't like I cheated on him, or was plotting to kill him or was still thinking about Sawyer or something."

She poured herself and Ben another glass of wine. They both took a sip.

"That's definitely not much of a reason," Ben agreed.

"Did something like this ever happen to you?" Kate asked.

Ben smiled wistfully.

"Wouldn't you know it, very much the same thing happened to me once, a long time ago. But she trusted me. My Annie trusted me. And now she's dead." He threw back the rest of the wine like it was a shot. He looked around, a sudden fire lighting behind his eyes. "You got anything stronger?"

Kate nodded and retrieved a half-drunk bottle of vodka from the freezer. She poured them both liberal glasses.

"Who was Annie?"

Ben carefully swirled the alcohol around in his glass, thinking about his response.

"Annie," he began with a heavy sigh, "was the love of my life. We spent five perfect years together. Then, she got pregnant."

He heard Kate's swift intake of air.

"And I'm guessing you know what happens to pregnant women on the Island. And I bet you can probably guess then why I was so interested in finding a cure. Not just because the fate of the Island rested in the possibility of a cure, but because I might have found some paltry satisfaction in the rest of my meager life. Or maybe some relief from my sorrow. I don't even know anymore."

Kate reached over and laid her hand comfortingly on Ben's arm, rubbing his thin wrist with her thumb.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Ben shrugged half-heartedly.

"Well, it was a long time ago, now."

"Have you been with anybody since then?"

Ben laughed.

"Are you kidding?"

Kate leaned her head back and laughed with him.

"You know what you need --" she began.

"—No, what do I need?" Ben interjected good-naturedly.

"I was coming to that. You need a woman to look after you. That's what you need, alright."

She refilled their drained glasses.

"And you know what you need, Kate?"

"What's that, Ben?" she asked, smiling.

"You need a man who's dependable and steady and capable."

Kate leaned over toward him.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he replied. "According to my calculations, anyhow."

"I've never been with a guy in my life who fit that description."

They both laughed.

"Whew," Ben sighed. "I think I'm drunk."

"I'm drunker," Kate replied. "Hey, you know what's crazy?"

Ben downed the rest of his vodka.

"What's that?"

"That guy you were describing kind of sounds like you – isn't that crazy?"

"Yeah, that sure is. Who'd have thought, huh?" He chuckled drunkenly.

Kate, on the other hand, stared hazily at Ben. She looked like she was thinking something through. Her expression froze the laughter inside Ben's throat, and he stared back at her. Swiftly, taking him off guard, she leaned across the couch and kissed him, fiercely. Just as the kiss got passionate, she pulled back and stared intensely at Ben. Then, just as unexpectedly, they both leaned in again. His hands began roaming all over her, grabbing frenziedly at her hair, her arms, anything within reach. Kate arched her back and locked her hands onto Ben's face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something was protesting. Then something stronger, perhaps loneliness, pushed it out of the way, and he picked Kate up and carried her, panting and still kissing him, up the stairs to the bedroom.


	8. Chapter 8

Ben stretched and sighed contentedly. He felt inexplicably happy. But he had a hell of a headache. He looked around confusedly. Lying there, asleep in his arms, was Kate. She was naked, he was naked, and a used condom lay on the floor. Ben's half-awake brain struggled with the pieces of evidence until everything fell into place with a hard clunk. His heart began a furious gallop within his chest, and he broke out in a cold sweat, completely sure of what had happened but completely ignorant of how it had happened. He thought back distractedly, trying to focus his thoughts. What was he doing last night? He came over. Kate was going to make him dinner. Why? Oh, right, it was a thank-you dinner because he had taken care of that reporter for her. And then what? There was alcohol. Ben shut his eyes in shameful recognition of his deeds. Yes, he remembered that part vividly. Oh god. Now what? His breath came in quick, short bursts now, making his chest rise and fall arhythmically. He knew what he had to do in order to protect both himself and Kate. She began to stir at his side. Slowly, she dug a knuckle into the corner of her eye.

"Good morning," she murmured sleepily.

Ben couldn't help himself – he was too polite.

"Good morning."

Kate sat up like a shot and stared, open-mouthed, at Ben. Whoever she had expected, it hadn't been Ben.

"Oh my god," she cried.

Ben sat up too, leaning forward on his knees.

"That was the same basic train of thought that first came to my mind, too."

"Oh my god," Kate blurted again. Ben cocked his head at her, his expression slightly betraying his annoyance.

"Yes, Kate, I get the picture."

Her mouth snapped shut with a soft click and she hurriedly pulled the covers up around her exposed body. Ben arched one eyebrow.

"I think it's a little late for that," he mumbled sardonically.

He began to rise, and she turned swiftly to face her closet. It was easier than facing him. Methodically, he started pulling on his clothing, piece by piece.

"We were both pretty drunk last night, weren't we?" he asked lightly, working on his tie.

Kate chewed her lips. She raised her eyes up sharply. They caught his instantly – those stormy blue eyes.

"Ben," she started. He cut her off.

"I know, I know. It was a mistake. Mistakes happen."

He slid his shoes on.

"Ben," she began again.

Again, he cut her off.

"Let's not think too much about it. I've really got to get going." He stood. "Don't get up; I'll just let myself out."

He hesitated briefly, then strode over to her and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good-bye, Kate."

He turned to leave. Kate sat there, too numb to speak. Inside, thoughts were pounding against her skull, desperate to get out, but her paralyzed tongue couldn't say them aloud. They pounded harder and screamed more shrilly as Ben walked out of the bedroom, but still her tongue wouldn't move. It was as if her feelings had no corresponding words. The front door closed quietly behind him. In the stillness, Kate could hear nothing and feel nothing, not even the hardwood floor beneath her feet. All that was left was a fresh gnawing void that nibbled coldly at her insides.


	9. Chapter 9

A week later, Ben sat rigid on a park bench, staring fixedly out at nothing. A tall, generic coffee cup stood limply on his leg, his fingers keeping it in place absentmindedly. He brought it to his lips, tipped it up, then made a twisted face. Dregs. Ben rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth. What a flavor. His cell phone rang once with an unexpected cheery tootle. He flipped it open.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon. ------- Oh? -------- Am I supposed to know who that is?" Ben's impatient expression jolted to one of unbelieving astonishment. "And you saw him talk to Sayid. ---- Did you hear what they were talking about? ---- No? Well, did anything happen? ----- I see. Thank you for the tip." He flipped his phone shut and sighed.

John Locke was back from the Island. Hell. Ben sighed again. The short reprieve from work had been nice, but it was all over now. He had to get down to business. Feeling suddenly unprepared, Ben sprang up from the bench and began the trek back to his car. While the rest of his brain began instantly formulating plans, one small nook felt relief. There was nothing like a crisis to take the mind off things.

"Sometimes I think about you, John. I think about how you were so desperate to stay on that Island. And then I realized – it was all because you didn't love anybody."

"That's not true. I loved someone – once. Her name was Helen."

"What happened?"

"Oh, it just didn't work out."

"Why not, John?"

"I was angry. I was obsessed."

"And look how far you've come."

The words of the afternoon's interlude came back to Kate as the small atomic clock on her bedside table clicked the time along soundlessly. It was 1:51 in the morning. Half an hour ago, she had awoken sweating from a nightmare she could not now remember. The residual emotions remained, however. There had been love at first, but then panic, fear, and loss in quick succession. She had lain there quietly for that half hour, hoping the pounding feeling would ebb away and she would skirt into dreamless sleep, but no such luck. Defeated, she climbed out of bed and wended her way downstairs, stopping only to poke her head worriedly into Aaron's room. She did not linger.

Padding softly down the stairs, trying to shake off the recurring paranoia that someone was watching, Kate removed the last vestiges of sleep from her limbs. She opened the refrigerator door and poured herself a glass of water. Sitting down carefully on a bar stool, she leaned her elbows on the counter and dropped her head between her hands. It lay there listlessly for a few beats, but then popped up again with an air of resignation. As she sipped her chilled water, Kate's eyes fell on a picture in her kitchen. It was of Ben and Aaron on the playground. The man had his arms gently wrapped the little boy and the camera caught him with a rare smile on his face. She sighed heavily and turned the picture over. A lot of good it did, too – those blue eyes were emblazoned in her brain permanently. God, what a mistake. She had been so drunk, so vulnerable; how could she let a mistake like that happen? _"You didn't love anybody."_ The words echoed plaintively back at Kate in the darkness. She passed a hand over her weary eyes. Had she ever loved someone since Tom? It seemed like all the men in her life since then were undependable and unsure and she had returned that uncertainty with one of her own. Kate's mind wandered back to Ben. He had seemed so steady – always there for her when she needed it; never curious, just accepting of her and her son. And he looked out for her. That business with the reporter – Jack never would have actually taken care of it, especially in his present continual drug-induced stupor. But here, Ben did it unasked because he cared. Kate sat up a little straighter. A thought occurred to her. At first she banished it, but it persisted. Maybe it hadn't been such a mistake. Maybe the alcohol hadn't so much impaired her judgment as released her from her own fears. And how did she feel when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in his arms? Kate shied away from the adjectives that sprang up unbidden in her mind. Safe; warm; happy; light. But then. . . . Her face flushed. He had left so abruptly. So coldly. He must have seen the shock written plainly on her face. He was gone before she even had a chance to think. When he left, Kate had lain back down, breathing in his lingering scent and trying in vain to still her mind in order to comprehend things. Failing, she began to cry. At first, the tears were just about Ben leaving so quickly, without a backward glance. Slowly, the tears increased, and so did the reasons behind them. Soon, she was bawling for everything that had piled up in her life – all the bad things and the confusing things and how she couldn't change the past or predict the future, but god almighty she did want to so badly. She cried over how nothing ever seemed to go right and how she shouldn't be Aaron's mother and someday they'd take him away and how she really wanted Ben to be there but he wasn't. He had left her, just like everybody else. But she couldn't think about that – that would be admitting too much, even to herself. So Kate convinced herself those tears were for Sawyer, because he had jumped, and because even if he hadn't she would have wanted him to go back to Cassidy and Clementine, and she would again be alone. Was that her destiny – to never share her life with anyone, ever?

Now, she sat at the bar stool, slowly comprehending the naked, painful truth. She, Kate Austen, cared for Benjamin Linus. She liked being around him. Somehow, he suited her, with his quiet disposition, faithful acceptance, and gentle expressions of love. Ben didn't make a big show about things. He didn't get jealous like Jack, and didn't leave her guessing like Sawyer. _Until now, that is,_ she reminded herself. A cold feeling seeped into her stomach. Sudden tears brimmed over the edges of her eyes. Kate brushed them away, biting her lips fiercely, shot down the rest of her water, and trudged back upstairs.

If she had only looked slightly to her right, through her sliding glass door, she would have seen the stony figure sitting in one of her lawn chairs. As it was, he continued his vigil uninterrupted. The shining blue eyes had duly noted the overturned photograph. He pretended valiantly not to feel the wrench of pain from that simple action. Kate also did not notice when the silent man left her backyard unhurriedly an hour later. It was just as well; he had things to tend to.


	10. Chapter 10

Ben knocked hesitatingly on the large wooden door. He hadn't been sure he even wanted to go there, but he was vulnerable, needy even. He swallowed. His resolve hardened with every knock on the heavy door. Finally, it opened, and the face he had been dreaming about peered angrily from the hallway at him.

"Hello, Ben," said Kate, through pursed lips. Ben was bewildered. Yes, he had left her too quickly the last time they had seen each other, but that was why he was here – to offer an apology. This simmering rage seemed like an overly sensitive reaction.

"Hello, Kate," he returned. They both stood there, facing each other awkwardly, Kate with open hostility, Ben with pure confusion.

"I wanted to come over and apologize," he began, his voice unforgivably shaky. "May I come in?"

Kate jutted her lower jaw out. Ben's look of nonchalance faltered, and he grimaced. He knew all too well what that look meant.

"No, you may not," she spat at him. His eyes widened.

"No, I may not?" he echoed disbelievingly. "Kate, Kate, I know I treated you abominably the last time we saw each other, but I was hoping you could forgive me if I came to you with an apology."

Kate snorted contemptuously.

"You really think that was the first time some douchebag with a dick has cut and run as quick as he could? Please. I'm not as innocent as you think." Ben flushed at her colorful choice of words. He felt like a cad, and, worse, she thought of him as such. He felt cheap and dirty and selfish, and he hated it. He hung his head, barely daring to glance up at her as he asked his next question.

"So why won't you let me in, Kate?"

She shifted her jaw dangerously further out.

"I don't want murderers around my child."

It was Ben's turn to give a contemptuous snort.

"Excuse me?"

"I know what you did to that reporter – Sayid told me," Kate hissed, eyes hard.

"Oh, and I suppose what I did is so very different from what you did, Kate, killing your stepfather, who was possibly your own father, that I deserve to be ostracized. I see," Ben shot back at her. She stepped forward in a quick, threatening movement, but he didn't flinch.

"I killed him because he hurt someone I cared about."

Their eyes locked, both seething with rage and hurt. Suddenly, Ben smiled, wistful and distant.

"You've never seen it, have you, Kate?" he asked, shaking his head sadly. "We're much more alike than you think."

With that, he turned on his heels and marched toward his car. Kate followed his movements warily, scowling. Just as suddenly, she started after him, her hands jerking impulsively at her sides as she barreled at Ben.

"What exactly does that mean?" Kate's question exploded at him in a burst of visible anger. He coldly turned to face her. She growled. "Don't you put that mask back on, goddammit!"

Ben simply raised one eyebrow, silently informing her that her antics got her nowhere and were not appreciated. It gave him a certain sick satisfaction to see her frustration mounting. It crossed his mind, fleetingly, that so it always seemed to be. Giving a strangled cry, Kate raised her fists to deal a power blow. With a deft, lightening-quick movement, Ben grabbed her wrists, spun her around, and pinned her against him. She struggled under his grip but could not wriggle an inch from his vice-like hands. He waited patiently until her breathing laboriously slowed. Then, he leaned imperceptibly in, breathing in the scent of her hair. She shivered, but she could not have said why.

"I think we both know the answer to that, Kate." Suddenly, he dropped her wrists and climbed into his car, and with a blasé expression waved good-bye. She stood there for a minute, like a boxer tensed for the sound of the bell. Then, her son's voice floated to her from the house, and she brushed the tears out of the corners of her eyes as she left Kate behind and returned to her life as mother.


	11. Chapter 11

Ben leaned his head back and closed his eyes. For three seconds, he rested. Then, his eyes snapped open and all his cares came back. He glanced around the airplane. Everyone was here, it seemed. Or, at least, all those who were left. Up there was Sun, and over there was Hurley, with a guitar case. And Sayid had been brought on in handcuffs, led by a tough-looking woman, and Jack was right across the aisle, always looking at him, unsure of what to do. John Locke was somewhere in the cargo bay, dead. That was Ben's fault, but he felt no icy pangs of guilt in his stomach. Per usual, he had done what he (and others) deemed necessary, even if that was first stopping John on death's threshold, then killing the man himself. Not that he wouldn't miss John, and the challenge he had presented, but his death had been unavoidable. And, last but not least, there was Kate, her hand massaging her forehead in concern. He thought back to their last conversation. She had called him at home a few days ago.

"Ben." The monotone voice came clear over the line. His heart still skipped an unwilling beat. He couldn't help himself – he desperately wanted to hear what she had to say. When she had found out that he had tried to remove her from the position of Aaron's legal guardian and mother, the look on her face smote him to his roots. It was the face of ultimate betrayal. And could he blame her? He had had no reason to think she would ever want to voluntarily speak to him again. But here they were now.

"Yes?"

There was a protracted pause; Ben knew better than to ask if she was still there.

"Are you going to go back to the Island?"

He smiled grimly. She always cut straight to the chase.

"Well, I should go, Kate. I have unfinished business there."

Another silence. He gritted his teeth, and spoke.

"Are you going back, too?"

"I really gotta go now, Ben." _Wrong question_. He cursed himself silently.

"I'll see you around then, Kate." He tried to leave it open. Her answer would tell him something either way.

"Goodbye, Ben."

Another bad answer. That meant she wasn't coming. So, when he saw her already on the plane as he scrambled to make it on time, it knocked all the remaining breath out of him. He had spent the last week and a half busying himself with trying to get all the Oceanic 6 back together, talking with Eloise, planning, killing John, extracting information, and, despite all that, seeing Kate on the plane still made his heart feel like someone was squeezing it. He clenched his teeth, rifling through his bag. Maybe if he pretended like he was doing something, Jack wouldn't notice his emotional furor, or ask inane questions, as he was prone to do. As luck would have it, just then, Jack rose, intent on a single purpose, and sat beside Kate. _Lady Luck be damned_. Ben watched jealously. _She just uses you, Jack. She uses you for sex or protection or momentary forgetfulness, but then you're out of her life._ He smiled bitterly. _Maybe she just used me for the same things, but at least she was honest with me. The masks fell away for a while with us. You've never given her that luxury; have you, Jack?_ And with that, he heaved open _Ulysses_, and started reading.

Jack gave Kate a last look, a reassuring smile, a nod, and returned to his seat. Secretly, she was relieved. All she wanted right now was to be alone to think. As much as she didn't want to dwell on leaving her son behind, and the mission she was determined to complete, it needed to be done. She needed to have her moment of mourning. She no longer was Aaron Austen's mother. Kate reproached herself silently. It wasn't Aaron Austen anymore; it was Aaron Littleton. That had been Claire's last name, and Aaron's rightful name. Had he ever really belonged to her? Had she just been fooling herself, for three years, that she could fill the place of his mother? Probably. Ben was right. And there he was; as hard as she tried, Ben always managed to sneak into her thoughts. The night before, after she dropped Aaron off with his grandmother, she had been an emotional wreck. Like she usually did when emotionally disturbed, Kate had hate sex. No, it wasn't hate sex, unless hating herself counted for something. No, it was forgetful sex. She unconsciously did that when she felt guilty about something, too. Sex had a way of blotting out everything else that was going on in her life. And yet, when she and Jack were making love, she bit back a name she never thought she would unintentionally say in the heat of passion. Instead of Jack, she imagined someone else. There was no faking it last night. Her imagination transported her back a few weeks in time, and again, afterwards, she felt that same kind of security, even though the man lying next to her wasn't the right one. But she didn't want to be with him – she couldn't be with him. There were too many complications.

The plane lurched, jarring her out of her thoughts. They were taking off. Slowly, the plane banked, rising gracefully above the Pacific. Through her sunglasses, Kate watched the waves. She smiled ruefully. _After all this, we're going back._ The plane rose higher, skimming above the clouds. Watching them roll by, Kate smiled again, this time with only tiredness showing behind the veils of her face. Feeling suddenly comforted, she leaned back, closing her eyes, and started to drift off. A few rows behind her, a pair of soft blue eyes watched her. For a moment, they held a profound sadness in their depths, but then their owner's breathing slowed along with that of the subject's, and they were flooded with absolute peace.

THE END


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